"With this axe, I rule!" - Kevin Sorbo, Kull the Conqueror

With luck, we're starting on next year's supply of firewood. Reality says we're not done yet. Maybe we can burn some virgins on the solstice to keep warm.

The Boy and I worked today. Oh, it wasn’t horrendous work, like lugging around Angelina Jolie’s lips or toting around Brad Pitt’s ego, but it was work nonetheless. Okay, I didn’t consider it work at all, but really more of a fun hobby.

What was it?

Cutting wood. I know that sounds dull and tedious, but for me on a weekend there’s little that can compare to taking my chainsaw and lopping off a batch of wood. It’s stress relief without comparison. Someone bugging you at work? You can cut them into itty bitty pieces without fear of police interference or being the subject of a “Silence of the Lambs” type movie, since you’re actually just cutting a log up. Bank have you irritated? Cut the crap out of high interest rates!

In the end, you can turn your frustrations into firewood (hence warmth for the family) with only minor aches and pains. For the longest time, this was a solo activity. I’d cut the wood. Then, The Mrs. joined me. I’d cut it, she’d stack it. Since she has high standards for wood stacking, it was nice that she’d do it. Today, however, The Boy acted like a man. Is that important?

The Mrs. and I were watching Kull the Conqueror with The Boy yesterday, and she remarked that one of the best things about that movie (it’s really better than any of the Conan movies) is that it has Kevin Sorbo.

I was momentarily miffed. I am certainly as big and strong as Sorbo, and if weren’t for him, you know, working out for a living, I could be as ripped as well. Propecia could take care of the rest. I mentioned that.

“It’s not that,” The Mrs. continued. “It’s that he’s manly.”

She hesitated a scant moment, anticipating my upcoming whine. “You’re manly. I like that.”

As I took long pieces of wood and cut them into smaller pieces, The Boy first prepared by going and getting the wheelbarrow, then by filling it up with the pieces that I had thrown into the pile of cut, but not yet stacked wood. After filling the wheelbarrow, he then took the remaining pieces and stacked them on the ever-growing row of wood. He was doing work that was necessary without being asked, cajoled, or threatened.

Later, he also learned the wages of a man who does work without fear of being sent to the corner. Autonomy. Want ranch dressing on your steak? (I don’t, but he did.) You can have it. Want to dig into the peanut butter covered Ritz Cracker Bites? Dig in. You earned that, too.

The one fear that I’ve had is that I won’t be able to instill into my sons the satisfaction of doing work just because it needs to be done. Work well done should be its own reward for a man. Period. The Boy has learned that. He looked back on the wood we’d stacked and said, “We did a good job, Dad. What’s next?”

Kevin Sorbo, eat your heart out.